


Birthday Boundary Wishes

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-22
Updated: 2006-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-27 14:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron and Harry find more than they bargained for while preparing a Birthday Present for a friend.





	Birthday Boundary Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

 

At the sound of a key turning, Crookshanks swiveled his head around toward the door and narrowed his eyes.  Horrific was the fate that awaited any furry or feathered creature crossing the threshold into his demesne.  There was a slight shimmer in the air surrounding the doorframe, as cantrips and barrier spells were brought down.  Crookshanks rolled over, focused on a spot on the door approximating jugular level, and tensed, waiting for the thrill of the pounce.

 

The door swung open, silently.  One would have expected a proper, creaky door hinge for such a moment, but the wizards outside this door knew the benefit of stealth.  As the first figure entered the room, Crookshanks leapt, four sets of claws and one set of razor fangs at the fore.

 

The first figure caught the flying furball of fury, almost absentmindedly, and murmured, "Good kitty."  Crookshanks was set down on the floor, sniffed irritably at having his fun ruined, and padded off to the parlor, to see what fatal feline fate he could impose on any creature within.

 

Ron rubbed his eyes, threw his traveling cloak over the sofa, and turned back to the other figure in the room.  Harry was closing the front door to Ron's flat, and with a slight wave of his hand, restored the security barriers.  After all, you just never knew, did you?  Harry set his glasses down, giving his red, irritated eyes a respite.

 

A sense of affection and sharing and grief and -- well, a thousand other emotions -- gripped Ron, squeezed the remaining sense of propriety out of him, and he started to gently sob into his hands.  Harry turned away from the door, a tear running down his cheek.  Ron lowered his hands from his face to look at Harry, raw black sorrow contorting his normally open, friendly features.

 

Not being able to bear the pain in his friend's face, Harry rushed over and wrapped Ron in a protective embrace.  Ron broke down and all the loss and sorrow and wasted lives of the past year all rushed out of Ron at once, in great heaving bursts of his soul.  Ron, for whom projecting a shield of bravery and strength had become his armor, grabbed at his best friend and squeezed him, held and embraced him.  Harry would always be his true strength, without pretense or facade.

 

For a long while, the only sound in the room was that of the two boys -- scratch that -- two young men letting out all the accumulated rage and fury and broken dreams that had been brought down upon them so unjustly, so recently, so terribly, so mercilessly.

 

When the room again grew quiet, Ron slowly released Harry, and stepped away to blow his nose.  Harry retrieved his glasses from the key stand next to the door, and settled them on the bridge of his nose, blinking away the last of his tears.

 

"I can't believe she's gone."  Harry let his breath out in a rush.  He'd said it out loud.  She was gone.  It was finally, well, *real*.

 

The clink of ice in glasses brought Harry's attention back to the kitchenette.  He took the glass of single malt 20-year-old Scotch whiskey from Ron, and sipped it gently.  Ron threw his back and reached for the bottle again.

 

_I wish he wouldn't drink so much_ , thought Harry, _but I guess, today of all days, he's entitled._

 

"Is it finally over, Harry?" Ron's voice was hoarse and low.  "Was that the last?  'Cause I don't think I can take any more."

 

The enormous Dark Wizard nest that Harry, Ron and the others had cleaned out last month had taken its toll on the band of brothers of Hogwarts mates.  The losses within the Auror's D.A. Cadre had been brutal.  But, the nest had been eradicated.  It was the last known organized group of You-Know-Who's followers.  Even the loss of their Dark Lord three years ago did not check their enthusiasm.  The branding of "He Will Return" and "He Is Eternal" into their skin was proof  enough of their fanaticism.

 

He continued, "I know You-Know-Who is gone, completely and totally, but I can't help feeling that we've missed something.  That he'll suddenly show up again, after we've finally stopped looking and have begun to relax."  He looked down at his feet, embarrassed at the words he had to say.  "I don't want to be on my guard every minute.  I can't.  It's too much."  He looked up into Harry's concerned face.  "Promise me, Harry.  Promise me it's all over, and I don't have to worry about losing anyone else."  He knew it was unfair of him to ask his best friend this, but if anyone in the entire world could make the promise, it was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

 

Ron's shoulders slumped.  "I'm so tired, and I can't give any more.  If he came back, he'd win.  I couldn't fight anymore.  I'm so tired."

 

Ron's breath caught in his throat, and he made a little choking sob.  Harry wouldn't have believed that Ron had any tears left, but looked up to see them streaming down his face again.  No one should have to shed that many tears.  No one should have to lose that many dear friends and family.  While Harry's past helped callus him against loss, Ron's gentle soul would always be scraped raw by strong emotion.

 

And, Harry would never, never fault him for that.

 

Today was the last of the funerals.  Her funeral.  He was certainly allowed today.

 

"I promise, Ron.  No more."  Harry stepped closer to Ron, looked up into the taller boy's face.  He reached up and placed his hands on Ron's face, just as he had all those years ago in the Black Lake, and brought his face within inches.  "I won't let it, I promise you that."

 

Ron lowered his head to rest on Harry's shoulder and cried again.  This time it was a soft, quiet breathing sob.  The fury and anger and tidal waves were gone.  This was a mourning cry, of lost futures and being that much more alone.

 

Harry turned his head and kissed the soft ginger hair behind Ron's ear.  "I promise."

 

_Because you'll always be the most important person in my life_ , he added in the privacy of his head.

 

As if he had heard Harry's thoughts, Ron drew his head back, just a little, and turned his face toward Harry's.  The sobbing and the single malt glazed Ron's eyes.  His nose a few centimeters from Harry's, he whispered, "You've always been my best mate.  I never tell you how much that means to me.  Thank you, Harry.  You're the only reason I've been able to get through the last ten years, since we started at Hogwarts.  You've saved my life in ways you'll never know.  You were my Best Man, are my Best Mate, and always my strength."

 

Ron's eyes drooped and his body started to relax.  The open bar at the wake had only compounded the whiskey he'd just quaffed.  His body was exhausted and decided the best thing for him would be to sleep.  Long and dreamless and deep.

 

Ron leaned against Harry's body as his own started to shut down.  "I love you, mate."  His head bobbed forward, and his lips brushed lightly again Harry's.  So lightly that Harry wasn't sure if he'd imagined it.  Then, Ron's head came to rest on his chest, and he started to softly snore.

 

"Oh."  Harry's eye's grew wide as the brief spark of electricity when Ron's lips touched his own began to fade.  His forehead creased with concern.  "Oh, no," Harry whispered, "it can't be true.  Please."

 

Harry carried him to the bedroom, kissed him on the forehead, took out his wand, and Apparated back to his own flat.  Where his own dreams were filled with Ron's kisses.

 

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

 

With all the paperwork, arrangements, inquiries and general detritus that followed a covert operation, Harry and Ron had scant time together for several weeks after the funeral.  That certainly didn't mean that Harry didn't replay over and over in his mind's eye those last minutes together in Ron's flat.

 

_This is stupid, I don't *love* Ron.  Not that way, at least._   Harry walked along the corridors of the Ministry distractedly.  _I mean, I do love Ron - he's been my best friend for ten years.  But not in a poufy way.  That's certain._   Harry's brows furrowed as he realized how insincere his own mental voice sounded.  _Isn't it?_

 

Indeed, ever since he'd realized that it was Ron that was taken from him and held hostage at the bottom of the Black Lake by the Merpeople, Harry had been forced to realize that it was Ron that he would miss most.  He'd felt guilty at the time, racing past Hermione directly to Ron without a second thought, to make sure that his best mate was all right.  The rest of the TriWizard Tournament shadowed out the thoughts, but Harry was absolutely certain that there would be no one like Ron in his life after that.

 

This was not a new in-his-head argument for Harry.  He'd had variations of this conversation many times.  First, when he'd seen Seamus masturbating in the shower at Hogwarts during Fourth Year.  The sight of Seamus' short, lean body completely naked under the running water, the soap dripping down his strong shoulders and across his tight chest froze Harry to the spot.  Then, when Seamus' hands slid lower, across his flat stomach to the dark forest below, and gripped and slid along his johnny, Harry realized that his own tackle was at attention.  After a moment when horror and lust were inseparable in Harry's head, he panicked, ran back to the dorm and wanked, desperately thinking of anything but the way Seamus' left hand had continued sliding underneath the twins, and the probing finger made him gasp as he stroked himself.

 

The most recent gemini conversation of Harry's had started a fortnight ago, after what Harry had (to his own chagrin) dubbed "Our First Kiss" - implying the possibility of future ones.  Harry had many sleepless nights since then, trying to find any explanation for what happened, for what it meant to him.

 

In light of his past, Harry was completely inexperienced when it came to romantic or physical relationships.  Ever since he'd gently but firmly turned away Ginny's affections, Harry hadn't really thought about having a relationship, with anyone.  The situation and the personal danger were always too great.  Besides, other than a ham-fisted fiasco with Cho, it'd never really come up as an issue, had it?  He's always been too busy, hadn't he?

 

_Well_ , thought Harry, _maybe that had been an excuse, not a cause._

 

After graduation, of course, it had become habit to be alone.  Being an Auror for the Ministry of Magic was not just a job for Harry -- it'd become an extension of who he was as a person and as a wizard.  He'd often thought that the fervor with which he performed his duties was a misplaced attempt to assuage his guilt over all the people who'd died at the hands of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.  But when he grew that introspective and sullen, he'd just shake it off and bury the thoughts.  Counterproductive, and all that.  All he had needed was his best mate, Ron, and his closest friends.  The rest had just seemed, well, frivolous.

 

Then, Ron had announced that he was getting married, and asked Harry to be his Best Man.  For the first time, Harry had a sense of what he had been missing, and felt a longing to fill an emptiness he hadn't realized had been there.

 

Standing at Ron's left shoulder, watching his friend be married, Harry felt a pang of something (what? surely not jealousy!) for his friend's happiness?  Could it have been jealousy that it wasn't he himself walking down the aisle in his dress robes, with Ron waiting at the end to be joined with him, forever?

 

_No, of course not_ , thought Harry as he nearly ran into a wall.  _What's the hell's wrong with me?  It was just an accidental kiss - it wasn't intentional, and it certainly didn't mean anything._ But he couldn't deny the sensations that coursed through his body when he heard Ron whisper that he loved Harry.  Even intended only as a confirmation of their friendship, the words burned in Harry's mind.

 

Harry didn't know how to process these thoughts.  He wanted to deny them, but he had enough sense of himself and his own mind to know that would be foolish.  If there was one thing Harry knew about himself, it was that he should never discount his gut feelings.  Second guessing himself always led to problems.

 

Lost in his thoughts, he wandered the corridors until, turning a corner, he ran into Parvati Patil.  As this was a literal "running into", the scrolls that Parvati had been carrying blossomed away from her in all directions.  "Harry!"

 

Harry's distractions vanished in an instant.  "Parvati!  I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."  He bent to help her retrieve the scattered parchment.  One of the scrolls bore Harry's name, and he looked at it pointedly as he handed it back to her.  "Is this something I should know about?"

 

"Oh, yes!"  She was still flushed from the surprise collision.  "It's for you.  It's an invitation to Padma's and my birthday next month.  We're reserving one of the high temples in Nepal.  I do hope you'll come?"

 

"Of course, of course.  I wouldn't miss it."  In truth, he had forgotten about the sisters' birthday in recent weeks, but didn't want to hurt the young woman's feelings.

 

"I'm so glad.  Since the old Hogwarts crowd is, well, smaller than it used to be..."  Parvati swallowed and looked down.  "Well, everyone is just that much more important to us now."

 

"Yeah, I know what you mean.  I feel the same."  Harry smiled down at the girl as his mind wandered again.  _Especially about one person in particular._

 

"Actually, Harry, I'm glad that I bumped into you.  I..." She blushed and the rest of the words came out in a rush. "I have a very special birthday wish of you.  Please just hear me out and don't say anything, not right away at least."

 

"Sure, Parvati.  Anything.  What would you like for your birthday?"

 

Parvati blushed again, and told him.  Harry stood staring blankly at the corridor for some time afterwards.

 

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

 

Ron opened the door to his flat, and let Harry in.  They had planned on having dinner together at Ron's flat before beginning the night's patrol.  The rota put the two old friends together in the Harrowgates route tonight.

 

"It's good to see you, Harry.  It seems like weeks, eh?"  Then, realizing exactly the last time they had spent more than a few minutes together at headquarters, his face darkened.  Tonight's patrol route took them very near the Dark Wizard nest that they had recently cleaned out.  The echoes of old friends lost in the abandoned warehouse seemed to haunt Ron's thoughts.

 

He turned toward the kitchen.  Ron had not inherited his mother's famed talent for cooking, and instead he began opening Indian take-away containers onto plates.  "Vindaloo again, if that's okay."

 

Their meal passed quietly, neither man wanting to break the contemplative tone in the air.  Ron was sinking into his private gloom, unable to let go of the past, while Harry was looking to the immediate future, dread and possibilities mixing to tie knots in his stomach.

 

Harry pushed the uneaten food around his plate.  "This is good food, Ron."  He cleared his throat.  "Hey, speaking of things Indian, you're going to Parvati's birthday party, aren't you?"

 

"Of course, Harry.  I wouldn't miss it."

 

"Well, I ran into her at the Ministry the other day, and she's asked me for a very special birthday present."

 

"Yeah, what is it then?  Can I help?  I'd do anything for her or any of the old gang."

 

_Anything, Ron?_   Harry knew he risked losing his friendship with Ron, but knew that he wouldn't have a better opportunity than the one Parvati had handed him.

 

"It's personal, Ron.  And private.  And, it involves you and I both."

 

"Harry, what's going on?  Just tell me."

 

Harry steeled himself for what must come next.  "She wants to watch us shag."

 

For the briefest moment, Ron's face was frozen.  Then, as if someone had pressed his face's "play" button, he started coughing on his food.  "What?!  Harry, you're joking right?"  Ron's round, open face was a mixture of more emotion than Harry could discern.  Shock, embarrassment, nervousness, and some discomfort, for sure.  But, was it his imagination, or did he see something else on the young man's face?  A fleeting glimmer of excitement?

 

"Yep, " said Harry, relieved that the worst part was over, and enjoying the moment.  "It was Parvati's expressed birthday wish."

 

"Ugh, you mean "Pervert-y's" wish, don't you?"  Ron gave a little nervous laugh and turned back to the remnants of his dinner.

 

Parvati's actual birthday wish had been to see Harry simply snogging with another, unspecified boy.  She had suggested Seamus, as she knew that he'd snog anything on two legs.  It had always been a secret desire of hers to see Harry kissing a boy, after she had gotten over her Fourth Year crush on Harry when she had realized he liked boys more than girls.  Even if Harry hadn't yet realized it.  Apparently, all the girls in Gryffindor House had known this, and had shared secret wishes to see him kissing another boy.

 

As for the rest of the birthday wish, Harry had embellished.  He didn't even know why, except that he could think of nothing else except finding a way to get Ron to kiss him again.  This single thought burned away all others, even in the face of Harry's denial and willpower not to have it be true.

 

"You can't be serious, Harry.  She actually told you this?"  Ron's face was still deeply blushed, and he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.

 

"Yeah, Ron.  Apparently, many of the girls harbour secret desires to see two boys having a romp."  _Why does that thought send a shiver down my spine?_ , Harry thought, the denial gripping him in his fear of losing his closest friend.

 

Harry felt a flicker of compassion for Ron's discomfort and added, "We wouldn't actually be...you know...doing anything to each other, it'd be pretend.  A show.  Well, except for the kissing, I mean."

 

"Harry, mate.  I don't know if I can do that.  It's just that I...  I'm not..."  Ron swallowed hard and hurriedly looked up at Harry to apologize.  For what, he didn't quite know.  "But, it's okay, you know.  You know that I don't have a problem with you...well, you know... you being gay or anything."

 

It was Harry's turn to cough on his food.  "What?!"  Harry thought his heart would beat so fast it'd explode.  "What?!  Ron, what are you talking about?  Of course, I'm not...I'm not...not..."  Harry looked up at Ron, and knew that this was the time.  The moment was crystal clear in Harry's mind as a sudden peace spread through his mind like honey over ice.  This was the only way it could happen, after all.

 

"It's really true, isn't it?  I'm gay."  The words hung in the air, as if written by a wand, Harry listening to the echoes of the first time he'd spoken the words aloud.

 

Ron stared at Harry, a nervous if lopsided encouraging smile on his face, as if giving Harry time to come to terms with this.  "Always the last to know, eh?"  Ron tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat and he coughed softly.

 

For a moment, Harry felt a flare of anger.  "But you knew, eh?  Why didn't you tell me?  Who else have you told?  Just a big laugh on Harry, eh?  How long have I been 'Harry Poufter' to you all?  How long, Ron?!"  Harry realized that he was shouting, and he didn't want the answers to these questions, but he couldn't stop himself.

 

Ron looked concerned at the timbre of Harry's outburst.  "Calm down, Harry, please!  I've known since Fourth Year."

 

Harry burst out again.  "Wha...SIX years?!"  He was standing now, leaning on the table glaring down at Ron.

 

"Harry, everyone knew that you had a crush on Cedric.  It was tough watching you work on Cho, knowing that it was because you couldn't have asked Cedric to the Yule Ball.  It was obvious to all, except to you that is, that Cedric only liked girls.  You were only 15, Harry, and had more important things to worry about than realizing that you fancied boys."

 

Ron pursed his lips in a moment of self-anger, and said, "I was 15, as well, and was such an immature pillock, I couldn't deal with it."  Ron sighed deeply and carried on with his own confession.  "It...it was me who told Hermione we shouldn't talk to you about it, that we should ignore it.  At the time, I told her it was because it was something that you had to do for yourself, but I later realized it was because I was afraid of what would happen if people found out.  As much as I hated being in your shadow, Harry, I was afraid that people would think I was your...boyfriend or something.  I should have been there to help you more.  I'm sorry, Harry.  I wasn't a very good friend then."

 

Ron's face fell and he looked down at his hands.  "And, then when you returned from the maze with Cedric's body, and we saw your reaction, well, you being gay didn't seem to be as important as you being hurt so badly.  And, then things got complicated enough with the war, and...well...it just sort of faded into the background."

 

Harry's mind reeled with so many realizations and memories.  His world had just taken a step sideways, and luring Ron into his plan just didn't seem as much fun as it had an hour ago.  He plopped down heavily into his chair, and stared at the opposite wall.

 

The uneasiness in the room, filled by the ghosts of the past, and personal epiphanies, stretched out.  Just as Harry was about to call off the Birthday Wish, and say it was a stupid suggestion, he heard Ron clear his throat.

 

"Harry?"  Ron's quiet voice broke the silence in the room.  "What, exactly, did you have in mind for Parvati's birthday?"

 

Harry's eyes snapped to Ron, and his heart leapt into his throat.

 

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

 

He and Ron were scheduled to be on patrol again together, and they met up outside the kabob take-away near the Ministry offices.

 

"Hi, mate."  Ron waved from the park bench at which he had already begun his dinner.  The fog was rolling in off the river, and a hearty dinner would serve him well through the damp night.  Harry sat down and nibbled at the chips on Ron's plate.

 

"Hi, Ron.  It's good to see you."  To Harry's eyes, Ron's welcoming smile was a bright beacon in the twilight.  _Even with a mouthful of lamb and cabbage_ , Harry sighed to himself, _Ron was adorable._   The drop of sauce on the corner of Ron's mouth fixated Harry's eyes and made him want to lick it off.  He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

 

Ron stood, tossed the rest of his dinner into a bin, and the young men started walking toward the river paths.

 

"Fag?"  Harry's head spun, terror-stricken at Ron's question.  _Oh, no.  He knows that I fancy him.  Being accepting that I'm gay was okay, but being the focus of it is too much.  What have I done?  It's all going to end, our friendship, everything.  Here and now._   Then, he saw the cigarette pack in Ron's hand, and the ever-so-innocent smile on Ron's face.  Harry rolled his eyes and nearly fainted. _This tension is going to be the death of me.  Especially if I'm this distracted while patrolling._

 

"No, thanks."  He scowled at Ron.  "And, you know I wish you wouldn't smoke."

 

"Leave it, Harry.  You're not my mo..."  Ron's face darkened.  They walked in silence for some time.

 

"Actually, Ron, there is something that I wanted to talk to you about."  Harry stared at his shoes as they tred the cobbles.

 

"Yeah?  Well, what is it?"

 

"You remember when we were at your flat, after the funeral?"  _Dumb, Harry, dumb.  Of course he remembers that day, we all do._

 

Ron tried to smile, but it got lost on the way to his face.  "Yeah, of course.  Although, " he added with false joviality, "I don't remember much after I opened the Glenfiddich."  He knew that Harry didn't like him to drink so much, and he was trying to cut back.  Harry's opinion meant a great deal to him.  Sometimes, it seems the most important thing to Ron.  He hated the thought of Harry disliking anything about him, and always secretly sought his approval.  And that thought made him uneasy.

 

_Here goes_ , thought Harry.  "Do you remember what you said to me just before you passed out?"

 

Ron blushed a little.  He did, indeed remember.  "Um, not really, " he lied.  "Why?"

 

Harry's resolve faltered, "Oh, nothing, I guess."

 

Despite their many years of friendship, despite all the trials and hardship they'd shared, there were some things that men just didn't say to one another.  Both Harry and Ron's heads were filled with things they both wanted to say to each other, but male conditioning and embarrassment held their tongues.  Hermione's frustrated exclamation of "Boys!" during the Tri-Wizard row reconciliation summed it up nicely.

 

The unspoken words hung between the men for the rest of the night.

 

They reached Ron's flat as dawn approached, and the tension of the evening finally wore through Harry's last barrier.  "Ron, I have to say something.  It's been on my mind all night, and it's tying me up in knots.  I just have to know something."

 

Ron looked both concerned and a little frightened.  "What is it?"

 

"Ron, you kissed me that night."  Harry paused while Ron looked around them quickly, nervous that someone might have overhead.  The hallway of the apartment building was still deserted at the early hour, however.  "And you told me that you loved me."

 

Ron's uneasiness threatened to make him run away and hide from the accusing words.

 

"It's okay, Ron, I didn't mind.  I know that you meant that you loved me as a friend.  I love you, too."  Harry's spine shivered as he said the words out loud, but he added quickly, "As a friend."

 

"Why...why are you saying all this to me?  Why now?"  Ron's voice had gotten quiet and low.  His hooded eyes wouldn't meet Harry's.

 

"I'm not sure, Ron.  I just wanted to say it back.  And, to say that I appreciated you saying it to me.  You're my best friend, and I love you."  _Gosh it feels good saying it_ , Harry thought _, if only Ron knew exactly what it meant to me._   "And, I thought it important for us to talk about this and clear the air before we...we... begin practicing for Parvati's birthday present."

 

Harry continued on, as if any momentary silence would break the spell on Ron and he'd dash away.  "We were going to rehearse tomorrow, remember?  If we're going to be...you know... with each other --"  Before Ron could react, Harry darted forward and grabbed his shoulders with both hands.  "-- I wanted to be sure we were secure in our friendship.  It has to be realistic, doesn't it?  For Parvati's sake."  Harry's face leaned into Ron's, while Ron tried to lean away from Harry.

 

Harry noted that Ron didn't actually try to break the embrace, or physically move his body.  Encouraged by this, but realizing that he was pushing very hard against Ron's boundaries, Harry went on, "And, it might mean more than we think."

 

Ron smiled nervously, "Ha ha, Harry.  You're having me on, aren't you?"  He gently released Harry's grip and tagged him lightly on the shoulder.  He opened the door to his flat, and both men went inside.  As Harry closed the door, Ron busied himself with emptying his coat pockets to avoid looking at Harry's face.

 

_Coward!  You're doing it again!_ , Ron shouted at himself silently.  _Don't push away your best friend.  Don't be scared about losing someone else you love._

 

Harry's face flickered briefly with disappointment before turning into a hesitant smile.  "Yeah, that's right.  I'm having you on."  _On top, for preference_ , Harry added in the privacy of his head.  "It's just an act for a friend, right?  Just pretend --  it's not real."  But, he'd really hoped that this would be the time.  That all they'd shared and experienced in the last several years would have bonded them together even more deeply than they had been.  Best friends was an amazing thing to have shared, but Harry knew that it would never be enough.  It would never slake his thirst to share himself completely with Ron.  There'd always be that last barrier between them.

 

Harry quickly brushed away a tear before Ron could turn back around from hanging up his coat.

 

Ron quickly brushed away a tear before turning back to Harry.

 

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

 

"Harry, maybe we could just... well... take this a little slower."

 

Harry's sigh gently blew the long red hair from Ron's shoulder.  The boys were standing facing each other, their bodies gently touching each other.  Harry's arms were wrapped around the taller boy's waist, and Ron's were draped over Harry's shoulders.

 

"Ron, it took us two hours to get this far.  If you're not wanting to do this, let's not waste our time."  Harry looked to the side and did a little moue.  "If you're this repulsed and disgusted just by hugging me, we'll never get to the rest."

 

As he went to release the embrace, Ron tightened his grip on Harry's shoulders, bringing their faces to within centimeters of each other.  Harry's eyes were just about level with Ron's nose, and his friend's full, wide lips filled his vision and his thoughts.

 

"It's not that, Harry, you know that.  I've never had a problem hugging you.  Or kissing you as a friend."  He demonstrated by kissing Harry's forehead.  "It's just that this is... is..."  He faltered and closed his eyes.

 

Before Ron could sink into a reflective depression, Harry leaned forward and kissed Ron.  This was not a brush-by kiss, nor a kiss between friends.  Harry pushed his lips into Ron's, hard.  He moved his hands up from Ron's waist to his shoulder blades, and pressed Ron into his body, their chests and hips pressed together harder even than their mouths.

 

After a brief, shocked moment, Ron's eyes rolled up into his head, and he relaxed into Harry's embrace.

 

After another brief, perfect moment, Harry felt a tear drop lightly onto his cheek.  Harry pulled back to stare at his friend, who was crying softly.  The perfect moment faded, the spell of the embrace was broken, and Ron turned and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, placed his face in his palms, and continued sobbing.

 

Inside, Ron's head was spinning.  It would be a betrayal; Ron felt it in his heart.  He's only been a widower for a year, just after his 21st birthday.  He'd promised while holding her in her final moments, that he would never love again.  And, he knew that he would never love another woman that way again.  It would only be a shade, a shallow reflection.

 

But, loving a bloke?  In complete honesty to himself, Ron knew that he'd never even considered it.  He'd never been drawn to a man before, not romantically nor sexually.  But, Harry was different.  The confusion of feelings and sensations that Harry caused in Ron had given him pause in the past, but he'd always repressed it, chalking it up to his deep friendship and bond with Harry.

 

But, that kiss...  Ron had never felt anything like it before in his life. Kissing a man was so totally different from kissing a woman.  Harry's mouth was strong, confident, insistent.  The feeling of Harry's razor stubble scratching along his own sent shivers down Ron's neck and shoulders.  And, the closeness was new - strange but exciting.  Kissing a man is a total contact sensation - every inch of the two male bodies, from noses to toes, are touching at the same moment.  Men when kissing are, by circumstance of biology, standing that much closer together.  Ron wasn't leaning forward over a woman's breasts, respectfully, nor bending down further to kiss.  He was standing tall, his chest touching Harry's, his stomach flat against Harry's, his hips (Ron gasped at the memory) flat against Harry's.  And, of course the strength in Harry's arms, grabbing Ron's back and pulling them together, was so different than lightly holding his wife and kissing her.

 

_Yes_ , thought Ron in a moment of clarity, _that's it.  Harry had been kissing me, not me kissing him.  Being kissed makes all the difference._   Ron realized that he'd never actually been kissed in his life; it'd always been him kissing someone else.  Being put in a passive position in romance was very foreign to Ron, compounding his confusion of sensation.

 

However, the clear nexus point in Ron's confusion was a single burning thought:  _Please kiss me again._

 

_Could I love Harry?_   As soon as the words formed in his mind, he felt a jolt of electricity run through his body.  "Bloody hell," he whispered.

 

Ron opened his eyes and turned his head.  Harry was sitting next to him on the bed, sapphire green eyes a tapestry of pain and concern and unabashed love.  Why had he not seen it before?  How had he come to deserve that look from Harry?  Ron reached over and took Harry's hand in his own.  A single tear ran down Harry's cheek.

 

"Are you okay, Ron?"  Harry closed his eyes to try to block out the pain he was causing his best friend.  He whispered, "I'm so sorry.  This was supposed to be a fun birthday wish for a friend."  He reached up with his free hand and wiped away a tear from Ron's face.  "It's just not worth it to see what it's doing to you.  I'm so sorry."

 

After a moment's silence, Ron spoke to Harry, but almost as much to himself.  "I like girls.  I _know_ I like girls.  It's not a fear of being gay, or thought of being gay - I'm just not.  I figured that out at Hogwarts.  Being around you, Dean, Colin and Justin and the others made me question myself and sort that out a long time ago.  I know who I am, and I'm straight."

 

He stood and turned to look at Harry.  Harry felt compelled to be near Ron, and stood as well.  "It's just..."  Ron ran a finger along Harry's jaw line, passing a thumb over Harry's lips.  Harry's eyes rolled up at the sensation, and he sighed deeply.  Ron's hand dropped again.  He looked down at his feet and closed his eyes.  "I'm so confused, Harry."

 

Harry reached up a hand, cupped Ron's left cheek and caressed his face.  He knew there were no words that would help - it was a battle within Ron's head that Ron alone had to fight.  All Harry could do was be patient and supportive.

 

An anguished look crossed Ron's face, and he grabbed Harry and drew him into a tight embrace.  He opened his eyes, stared into Harry's eyes, removed Harry's glasses and set them aside.

 

"All I know, right now, right here, is that I love you.  I love you, Harry Potter."

 

And Ron kissed Harry.

 

And the tears of confusion and fear turned to tears of joy and release and longing.

 

After an eternity lost in their own universe, the men stood apart, hands still touching. The only sound in the room was of the two men breathing heavily, trying to get their breath back.

 

"My gods, that felt good."  Ron's eyes were shining, on fire.  Harry realized that he hadn't seen that fire in his eyes, or seen his friend genuinely smile in many years.  Harry smiled back in relief.

 

The briefest shadow passed over Ron's face, damping the fires a little.  "I am still confused, Harry.  What am I?"  He squeezed Harry's hands and drew him in closer.  "I don't fancy men, I know that.  It's just you, Harry.  I don't understand how I can be straight, but feel you so strongly inside."  He smiled his shy lopsided smile and looked down at the floor.  "I guess I've always been something of a misfit.  Why should this be any different?"

 

Harry lifted Ron's chin and stared at him.  "Haven't you figured it out yet, Ron?"  Harry's broad love-sick smile held more than a hint of mischief.  "You're not homosexual, Ron.  You're Harry-sexual!"

 

A much-needed laugh burst out from Ron, releasing most of the tension wound up so tightly in his body.  He drew Harry into his body, and kissed him again, this time with more passion and fervor.  For a brief moment, he felt the tip of Harry's tongue brush across his lips.

 

Ron's knees buckled at the sensation, and Harry quickly grabbed him.  "Okay, okay."  Harry grinned.  "We'll go slower with the advanced stuff, eh?"

 

Ron nodded.  It'd been an exhausting morning.  And they hadn't even started practicing for their performance, only a couple of days away.

 

Ron looked back to Harry.  "Is it okay if we don't...you know... talking about this now?  I still have so much to sort out in my head."  He looked across to a photo from Ron's wedding on Harry's bookcase, showing the three friends clowning around with champagne bottles.  "And, I have to...talk...to her about it."

 

Harry knew that when he was troubled, Ron looked through his photo albums and talked to his late wife.  "Of course, mate, anything you need."  Harry looked up at the clock.  "You're probably just ready to get out of here, anyway.  Why don't we rehearse tomorrow?"

 

"No, it's okay, Harry.  We should do our rehearsal now.  We have double patrols the rest of the week, and the girls' birthday is this weekend.  I really don't mind.  As odd as it sounds, I don't feel nervous about it now.  I still have loads of emotional stuff to figure out, but snogging with you holds no worries for me now."

 

"Okay, now it is."  Harry led Ron back into the sitting room, and turned a comfy chair to face the center of the room.

 

Harry motioned with his hands.  "We'll seat Parvati in the chair, facing us.  She's the audience, right?  She's not allowed to interact or make comments.  And, since it's a little skit, there's a story to it.  I mean, it's not just us groping at each other, right?"

 

Ron made an exaggerated pout.  "Damn!"

 

Harry laughed and tagged Ron's arm.  He hadn't felt this good, this alive in years.  Not only was Harry settling into his own skin again, but he'd told Ron his deepest secret, and not only did he still have Ron's friendship, there was the possibility of something more developing.  This was a moment of pure happiness to file away in case he'd needed fodder for another Patronus Charm.  He could conjure an entire herd from this feeling, he knew.

 

"The basic story will be that you are waiting for me to return from patrol, but heard from someone at the Ministry that there was trouble.  You're worried, pacing the flat, waiting for my safe return.  How does that sound?"

 

Ron looked uncertain.  "Yeah, okay."

 

"Yeah, I know it's kinda weak, but you know how lame the storylines are in porn movies, right?"  Harry grinned as he watched the blush spread across Ron's shocked face.  "Ron, come on.  You're telling me that you've never wanked while watching one of those movies?"

 

"Harry!"

 

"Okay, okay, you can just show me later."  He smiled again as he heard Ron gasp.  "Ron, you stand here and start pacing.  I'll go into the other room and come in like I'm back from a hard patrol."

 

"But, I don't know what to say!  We don't have a script or anything."

 

"Don't worry, Ron.  Just sort of pick up what I say, and react to it as you would normally."

 

"Harry, up until an hour ago, none of this was 'normal' to me.  And, I'm still not half sure what 'normal' means for me anymore."

 

Harry gave him a brief kiss.  "Don't worry, you'll do fine."

 

Harry stepped into the kitchen, and Ron started stomping across the floor.  Harry's head poked out of the kitchen.  "Not so heavy, Ron.  My neighbors'll come to complain.  Just relax."  Ron shook off some tension and started pacing the length of the room.

 

Harry made as if to open an invisible door between the rooms.  "I'm back, Ron.  Are you here?"

 

Ron rushed over to Harry.  "I was so worried, mate.  I heard that there were problems.  Are you okay?"

 

"Yeah, I'm fine.  It was just a particularly bad night."  He sighed heavily.  "I'm just so glad that I'm home now."

 

_Home_ , thought Ron, _our home.  Together._

 

He embraced Harry and held him tight.  "Me too, mate, me too."  He looked deep into Harry's eyes.  "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, now that I've just found you."  Their bodies still touching, Ron kissed Harry again.  Mindful of their audience, the kiss was a romantic kiss, full of love and connection.  Passionate, fevered kisses were for private indulgence only.

 

Harry pulled back a little, breathing heavily.  "You're really getting good at that."

 

"I have the best inspiration."

 

Harry's face held mischief and apprehension.  "Let's see what else you're good at, eh?"  He drew back from Ron's embrace and reach up to unbutton Ron's vest.

 

"Um, Harry.  What are you doing?"

 

"I'm undressing you, Ron, what'd you think I was doing?  Do you remember Parvati's wish?"

 

Shy nervousness crossed Ron' face.  "You mean we have to, you know, in front of her?"  Ron bit his lip.  "I mean, I think I want to...you know...try more stuff with you, but in private, Harry."

 

Harry pulse raced at what might be involved in 'more stuff' together, but put those thoughts aside for the moment.

 

"No, we're not going to actually shag in front of her, Ron.  It's just pretend, right?  We'll just have to figure out angles and stuff so that it just looks like we're having sex."

 

"Yeah, okay.  I think I get it.  Now what?"

 

"Okay, at this point, we've kissed, which was first on her checklist."  _My checklist_ , thought Harry.  _All of Parvati's wish is completed and now it's all gravy._   He motioned for Ron to face away from the chair.  "If you keep your back to her after the kiss, the rest of what we do is hidden from her direct line of sight, and she'll have to use her imagination for the rest, right?"

 

Ron looked around at the angles.  "Okay, yah, I'm seeing it now.  She only sees the intimation of what we're pretending to do, right?  She doesn't actually know for sure what's happening, eh?"

 

Harry cleared his throat and spoke again in a stage voice.  "Let's see just how much you worried about me, eh?"  His fingers finished unbuttoning Ron's vest and tossed it aside.  He pulled Ron's shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and started to lift it over his head.  For the briefest moment, Ron's hand stayed Harry's, but then he removed his hand and allowed Harry to remove his shirt.  Ron fervently chided himself for not spending more time taking exercise.  For the first time, Ron actually worried that Harry wouldn't like his body.  The strangeness of the thought rolled around Ron's head.

 

His reflection was broken by the shock of feeling Harry's hands on his chest.  Harry's palms were resting lightly on either side of his breastbone, the littlest finger of each hand touching his nipples.  Ron thought he was going to faint.

 

To take his mind off of Harry touching him, he removed Harry's glasses, and pulled his sweater over his head, further tousling the wild black hair.  The hint of musk and scent that brushed by Ron's nose as he undressed Harry caused him to breathe deeply.

 

Truly, there is no scent like that of a man....

 

It's the ultimate test for a boy - it's how a boy knows he's gay.  Attraction is something that could be attributed to appreciation or admiration.  Affection is something that could be admiration or friendship.  But the scent, the chemistry, the pheromones, that cannot be anything else, it cannot be faked.

 

It cannot be denied.

 

And, it overrules the head.  Every time.

 

Ron's fingers traced the lines of Harry's stomach, circling the light patch of hair around his nipples, and down the trail to the edge of his trousers.  Harry placed his hands on Ron's shoulders, and gently pushed him down into a kneeling position in front of him.

 

Ron swallowed hard, forced his body to relax, and tried not to faint.  Never in his life would he have imagined being on his knees in front of a half-naked man.

 

"You going to be okay, Ron?"  Harry looked a little nervous and worried.

 

Nodding, Ron reached up, unbuttoned the top of Harry's trousers, and slowly unzipped the front.  He realized that he was breathing deeply, trying hard not to hyperventilate at the realization that he was about to be eye-to-eye (as it were) with another man's tackle.  The fact that it was Harry's meat-and-potatoes only made him more nervous.  This was the First Time, and it had to be perfect.  If it wasn't, Ron was sure he'd die of embarrassment, and Harry would never want to do this again after the disappointment.  None of which was true, however.

 

He pulled aside the flaps of the trouser fronts, and was startled out of his reverie.  Viktor Krum was staring at him from Harry's groin.  "Um, Harry?  Are those my Quidditch Finals shorts from Fourth Year?"

 

Harry grinned maniacally.  "Yeah.  Hope you don't mind."

 

"I thought the house elves lost them in the laundry during Sixth Year.  You've had them this whole time?"

 

"Yeah.  Sorry."  Harry's expression did not show remorse, only a teasing playfulness.

 

Ron shook his head.  "You are some messed up tosser, you know that?"

 

Harry pretended to be shocked.  "How did you know what I've done with the shorts?"  Ron's eyes threatened to burst out of his head, until he realized his friend was teasing him.

 

"Are you trying to give me heart failure?"

 

"No, Ron.  I'm actually trying to give you a hard-on, if you must know."  Harry's eyes now only burned with longing.

 

Ron swallowed hard, and looked back at the shorts.  In an impulsive rush, he yanked down Harry's trousers to his feet, and then pulled down the Quidditch shorts, trying to prove to Harry that he, too, could rise to the challenge.

 

He heard Harry gasp, but simply knelt in front of Harry, staring.  Of all the sights Ron expected to see after disrobing Harry (a thought Ron never imagined having), this was not in the Top Ten.

 

"Um...Harry?  What are you wearing another pair of shorts underneath?"  He heard Harry giggle from above.

 

"Sorry to disappoint you, Ron.  But that was brilliant, the way you pulled off my shorts!  I would never have expected that!"

 

"Harry, you're avoiding my question.  Why?"  Ron's initial adrenalin rush had faded, and he actually looked at the gold-and-red y-fronts with the Gryffindor lion on them.  The second thing he noticed that the tiny briefs were extremely well-filled.  Harry was very excited, and his equipment was straining at the elastic.  "Oh, never mind.  I get it."

 

Harry blushed and had to force himself from covering his obviously hard johnny.  He made himself stand there, his crotch only inches from Ron's face, defiantly showing him something that he was secretly very proud about.  Besides, his new relationship with Ron was all about testing boundaries, wasn't it?

 

Ron's eyes stared widely along the length of the cotton shorts, sighting from the center along the right-hand side of the briefs, seeking the tip.  The bulge in the shorts seemed to go on and on, and nearly wrapped around Harry's hip.  Ron realized that his mouth was hanging open, both in admiration and jealousy.

 

"Bloody hell, Harry.  I never realized."  Of course, the boys had seen each other naked before.  For seven years, they had shared a small dorm room, common shower room, side-by-side urinals.  Not to mention the Quidditch changing room.  But, catching a glimpse across the room of a dormant slip of foreskin and balls was very different from seeing a very hard and much larger cock only inches from your face, restrained by the sheerest, thinnest barrier of cotton.

 

"Well, when I dressed this morning, I didn't want to embarrass or put you off during our rehearsal if I got a stiffie.  I thought that these would help hide any reaction I had."

 

"Whoa, Harry.  I don't think even your Invisibility Cloak could hide that thing."  Ron unconsciously licked his lips.  Harry saw, and the sight excited him.  That was so very not like he thought the day would go.  Harry's body tightened a small set of muscles just behind the base of his cock, and it strained forward, as if trying to break through its binds.

 

Ron's face hadn't moved, nor changed.  He was transfixed by the sight.  His voice croaked a little as he whispered, "And, that's because of me?"

 

Harry leaned down and raised Ron face to look up into his own.  "Oh, yes, Ron.  And, that's just the stuff you can see."  He kissed Ron again, then straightened up, and waited.  The next move had to be Ron's - it had to be something he wanted to happen.

 

He didn't have long to wait.  Before Ron could second-guess himself into paralysis, he reached up and put his hand on Harry's crotch.  He felt the thin cotton and the hard flesh underneath, and an instinctive reaction took over.  He squeezed hard and kneaded the hard mound in the shorts.

 

Harry gasped, his head thrown back with sensation, and his knees started to buckle.  Ron threw his other arm around Harry's waist to steady him.

 

When he recovered his balance, Harry whispered, "No other person has ever touched me that way, Ron."

 

_Pillock!_  Ron scolded himself in his head.  _Of course, I knew, but never realized._   Ron snorted at his own stupidity.

 

_Harry's a virgin, isn't he?_

 

Unexpectedly, this realization relaxed Ron.  He wasn't the only one charting new territory here.  Harry had no basis for comparison, so some of the pressure on Ron to be "perfect" was off.  Harry had never been with a man either.  Ron felt a surge of emotion for Harry - Harry wanted his first encounter to be with him.  Of all the men -- Wizard and Muggle alike -- who would have given major limbs for the honor and pleasure, Harry chose him.

 

Suddenly feeling more in tune with Harry, Ron felt emboldened, and continued kneading the fleshy mound of Harry's briefs, listening to the soft moans coming from above.  Aware of an uncomfortable tightness in his own trousers, Ron reach down and slipped his hand into his own shorts to rearrange his own insistent condition.  The moment both his hands were full with hard dick, Ron gasped and moaned himself.

 

Touching Harry's member wasn't as strange or weird as Ron thought it might be.  Every man knows instinctively how to touch and stroke his own cock - it's built in.  But, the fact that it wasn't his own was just a technicality.  With respect to all the straight women in the history of the world, only a man can truly know how to touch another man.

 

"Harry?"  Ron was torn between desire at releasing Harry's flesh from the shorts, and the reality check that this was still just a rehearsal.  "Um...Harry?  Should I...you know...take off your shorts, too?  Are you going to show your arse for the wish?"

 

Harry, too, was torn.  He desperately wanted to be released from the cotton confines, and to have Ron do many and exotic things to him.  But, he didn't want to force too much on Ron too soon.  Every instinct in Harry's brain was telling him to slow down - it would be better that way.  But, every instinct in Harry's body wanted to throw off the shorts, and see what Ron's mouth felt like sliding down on his flesh.

 

The corners of Harry's mouth turned up, creasing the skin around his eyes.  "Well, it wouldn't be the first time, eh?  Especially after the whole school has seen both our arses during Commencement, right?"  Ron grinned and flushed at the memory of throwing off his robes, along with the other members of all Houses Quidditch Teams, and running through the Hogwarts grounds.  Most of the girls on the teams had elected to wear tiny, flesh-color bikinis, but the boys had all gone full Monty.

 

Harry cleared his throat, and returned to his stage voice, laden with a heavy leer.  "Well, Ron, aren't you going to welcome me back properly?"

 

Ron rolled his eyes at the over-exaggerated tone, and looked back at the task in front of him.  He swallowed, and took the elastic band of Harry's shorts under his fingers.  It was now or never.  There was no turning back after this.  After this, it all changed.

 

Ron hesitated and faltered under the self-imposed pressure.  It just wasn't right.  The first time he would touch Harry's naked flesh had to be the right time.  It had to be perfect.  It just didn't seem right during this make-believe rehearsal.

 

Oh, but he wanted to.

 

Ron lowered his hands, the shorts still restraining Harry's meat.  "I'm sorry, Harry.  I need a little time for this one."  He looked up at Harry's face.  "It's not that I don't want to, Harry.  You have to believe that.  It's just - when it's right, I'll know.  I want it to be because we both want it to happen, not because we have to for a Birthday Wish."

 

"I understand, Ron, really I do.  I'm standing here terrified that it'll all go wrong, and everything'll fall apart.  Once I'm completed naked to you, it all changes.  If it's not right, I couldn't stand the thought of losing your friendship.  This has to be something we both feel is right.  If now isn't the time, that's okay.  Truly."  Harry had a thought.  "But, hold on."

 

Harry turned his back, pulled off his shorts, grabbed something off the floor, and slowly turned back to Ron.  "How's this?"

 

Ron's eyes threatened to jump out of his head.  Harry was standing in front of him, completely bare-ass naked, with one exception.

 

He was wearing a sock.  And not on his foot.

 

"Whoa."  Ron hadn't realized he had been holding his breath, and it all came out in that one syllable.  His eyes didn't know where to look first.  The soft, gentle curve along Harry's hip, the light trail of wispy hair leading down from Harry's navel to the dark forest of hair at his groin.  The teasing hint of bare flesh just at the foundation of Harry's cock, where the sock didn't quite reach to its base.  "Oh yeah, Harry.  Yeah, that's okay."

 

Without the shorts to press it against his hip, Harry's cock stood straight out, pointing directly at Ron's face.  The sock was barely adequate to cover it, with the twins safely tucked into the end.  The end of the sock was swaying gently up and down, in time to Harry's heartbeat, and was as hypnotizing as a vertical pendulum.

 

Harry's voice sounded a long way away.  "This way, all Parvati can see is my arse, but she doesn't know that I'm not totally starkers.  But, her imagination will want to believe that I am."

 

Ron nodded slightly.  His brain wasn't functioning enough to make his voice work.  And, he knew that if he opened his mouth to talk now, the burning firestorm in his brain would make him do something else with it.  The thought of running his tongue on Harry's flesh, of having Harry's flesh in his mouth, caused his own prick to twitch with desire.

 

Harry continued, "So, I guess the last thing we'll do is to simulate...you know...you sucking me."  Again, Ron nodded slightly.  There was no other thought in his world.

 

Shifting his weight, Ron leaned forward and slightly left.  He kissed Harry's hip where his lower abdominal muscle ridge ended at his hip bone.  His tongue darted out and he ran a slow line across to the center of Harry's groin, just above the forbidden forest.  Ron could feel the coarse wool of Harry's sock caress his neck underneath his chin.  He could feel the firm flesh underneath the sock pressing insistently into his chest.

 

Harry breathed deeply.  "Yeah, Ron.  That's good.  From behind me, it'll look like the real thing.  She'll go crazy."

 

However, Ron wasn't thinking about the Birthday Wish right now.  He was staring at the strip of pale flesh where Harry's protruding cock met the lip of his sock.  He closed his eyes and touched the tip of his tongue to the little indentation at the base of Harry's cock where the hair ended.

 

Harry put his hands on Ron's shoulders and moaned softly.  _My gods_ , he thought, _if just this feels so good I feel like I'm going to faint, what must it feel like to be completely in his mouth?  In time, in time._

 

Moving his hands underneath Ron's arms, he lifted him up until the men were standing nose to nose again.  Harry stepped forward, so that their bodies were touching, and their lips were a hair's breadth apart.  He felt his cock slide to the left as Ron's flat stomach drew close.

 

Harry brought Ron in closer, and whispered in his ear, "That's done for her.  The rest is mine.  I need you, Ron.  I love you."

 

Harry kissed Ron's ear, taking the warm lobe between his lips and gently kneading it.  Ron's head tilted back and his knees buckled slightly.  Harry ran his tongue behind his ear, along the hairline, moving aside the shoulder-length ginger hair.

 

"Ron, take off the rest of your clothes.  Please."  Without leaving Harry's embrace, Ron pushed down his trousers and his own shorts.  As they fell to his ankles, he stepped out of them and kicked them aside.  The cool air of the apartment on his own naked flesh sent a row of gooseflesh down his back.

 

Ron looked back into Harry's eyes, and he leaned in, desperate to taste Harry's mouth again.  Before he could get that close, he gasped and looked down.

 

Harry had removed the sock.

 

Ron felt the skin along his shaft slide along Harry's skin.  He felt when the tip touched Harry's groin, and felt Harry's against his own.  Naturally, the boys were of equal size.  It had to be so.

 

Through the fog of desire, Ron realized that Harry was thicker than he was.  A small part of his brain knew that he should be jealous, but that part was slapped into submission by his libido.

 

Harry drew Ron in closer, until they were in a full body embrace.  Their feet were intertwined, their thighs were pressed close, their pricks were both standing upright, being caressed by their hard stomachs, their chests were touching with hard nipples teasing smooth skin.

 

Oh, yes, and their mouths were ravishing each other's.

 

The frantic kissing, with each man trying to gain an upper hand in the tongue-jousting, and exploring each other's mouths deeper than the other, caused their bodies to slide against each other.  Harry relaxed in his aggressive exploration and allowed Ron to take the lead.  As he felt Ron's tongue running along his lips and sliding between his teeth, his eyes rolled up into his head and he surrendered to the feelings.

 

Ron felt Harry's body tense and his head tilt back.  He opened his eyes to see the whites of Harry's showing. At that moment, he felt the convulsion in Harry's body, heard Harry's breathing stop, and felt the liquid warmth spread across his stomach.

 

_But I didn't even touch him yet_ , Ron thought.

 

Harry's breathing restarted in a rush, and his knees gave out.  Ron lowered him gently to the floor, lie down beside and waited.  He reached behind him, pulled his wand out of the pocket of his discarded trousers, and cleaned up the thick, fragrant juice on both their bodies.

 

After several minutes, Harry's head rolled to the side and looked into Ron's smirking face.  He smiled with awe, and in a deliberate mocking of Ron's voice, whispered, "Bloody hell!"  He looked down along the length of his side, to where Ron's hard flesh was still pressing against Harry's hip.

 

Harry pushed Ron over until he was lying flat on his back on the carpet.  Harry took Ron's right hand and placed it on top of the flagpole cock.  Harry sat up to look at Ron's prone body.

 

Ron gingerly wrapped his hand around his willie.  He blushed a little at touching himself in front of another person, but the naked desire in Harry's face made him want to.

 

"Please, Ron.  Show me."  Harry's eyes were fixated on Ron's hand, which had already begun a slow, long stroke.

 

Ron quickened the rhythm of his hand, knowing it wouldn't take much now.  All the sensations of the last hour came rushing back in the four dimensional replay in his mind.  The fleeting, forbidden taste of Harry's flesh at the base of his crotch sent shivers down every nerve in his body.  Ron raised his hips off the floor, causing the muscles along his stomach and thighs to flex, and he gave in to the sensations.

 

He moaned loudly and made little raspy coughs.  His own thick creamy juice peppered his chest and stomach, as his head rolled side to side.

 

Harry licked his lips at the sudden base desire to taste Ron.

 

Ron cleaned off his own skin, stood up, and took Harry's hand.  He pulled Harry to his feet, led him into the bedroom, and the men slid between the cool sheets.  They curled up together, neither saying a word, not wanting mere language to get in the way.

 

Both were asleep in minutes.

 

\--------

 

Harry cleared his throat, and returned to his stage voice, laden with a heavy leer.  "Well, Ron, aren't you going to welcome me back properly?"

 

Ron leaned slightly to the left, and looked around Harry's naked hip to the chair behind him.  Parvati's eyes were big as saucers, with her hands over her mouth. With as many times as she'd gasped during the performance, you'd think she'd have hyperventilated by now.

 

Ron moved back in the hidden shadow of Harry's body, out of sight of the Birthday Girl.

 

He looked up at Harry and gave him a devil grin.  Ron raised his finger to his lips, urging silence, and then slowly removed the sock.

 

FIN


End file.
